Merciless by Mary Burton Page B

Sierra Day, Sierra had repeated. Angie remembered how her own impatience had thinned as she’d listened to the young actress’s rants.
    “He’s made you a fair offer,” Angie said. “I suggest you take it.”
    With the dramatic flick of her fingers, Sierra tossed the edges of her blond hair over her shoulder. “I will not settle. It is not fair. It is an outrage.”
    A headache thumped behind Angie’s eyes. “It’s a good offer. Take it, and get on with your life.”
    Green eyes narrowed. “Are you on his side?”
    Annoyed, Angie sat back in her office chair. “Save the drama for everyone else. I don’t care.”
    The hysteria melted from her demeanor. “Fine. No drama. But I want more money.”
    Angie put on her blinker. Just as she made a sharp right turn into the parking deck a block from her Old Town law offices, the on-hold music stopped.
    “Miss Carlson. You still with me?” The nurse’s pert tone clipped at each word.
    Angie cradled the phone under her ear as she downshifted the gears on her BMW and rounded another sharp turn. “Still here, Mrs. Davis. Did you find my test results?”
    “Sure did. They are all negative, except for the blood work. We are going to run that a second time.”
    Angie’s anxiety level, which on a good day hovered in the high range, shot past stressed to panic. “What’s wrong with the blood work?”
    “The markers are slightly elevated. Likely, it’s nothing to be worried about, but we need to be sure.”
    “Do I need to come in and have more blood drawn? I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
    “No. Like I said, we can rerun what we have. If it’s high then I’ll have you come back in.”
    “So basically you don’t think the cancer is back.”
    “That’s my guess.” The brittleness had vanished from the nurse’s voice. “But no one can say definitively until the tests give us the all clear.”
    “When will you call?”
    “Tomorrow. Friday at the latest.”
    “You’ll call as soon as you know?”
    “We will.”
    “Thanks.” She hung up the phone and let it drop to her black wool skirt.
    Angie had awoken from the surgery, her body numb and heavy with anesthesia. Tubes ran out of her arms and nose. She opened her eyes, knowing what the doctors had done to her so that her life could be spared. Through the haze she made out the shape of her father. He sat at her bedside, reading one of his precious books.
    “Dad?”
    He closed the book and pulled off his glasses. “Angelina.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I couldn’t let you do this alone.”
    She’d only told him about the surgery yesterday. She’d not wanted to worry him and told him she’d handle it alone.
    His presence stirred something in her, and the emotions she’d held on to so strongly broke free. She let the tears roll down her cheeks. “Did they do the surgery?”
    “Yes. The doctor said it went very well.”
    A lump in her throat nearly choked her. “I’ll never have children.”
    “No.”
    She wept.
    He patted her hand. “Maybe it’s all for the best.”
    She opened her eyes and looked at him. “How can you say that?”
    His eyes telegraphed sadness and pain. “Now you’ll never be vulnerable.”
    With as much care as she could muster, she pulled into the tight spot marked RESERVED: A. CARLSON. She turned off the engine, set the parking brake, and released the clutch.
    For a moment, she simply sat in her seat, hands resting on the wheel. “Shit.”
    The old fears returned, and for a moment made it impossible for her to move forward. Sheer will kept her from driving to the nearest grocery, buying a bottle of wine, and driving home to polish it off. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
    Those that called her The Barracuda would laugh if they saw her now. God, Kier would have a field day.
    It was the flash of his face that had her straightening. He would never see her afraid, not as long as she had breath in her body.
    Keys in hand, she grabbed her briefcase and got out of